


Special Permit

by mistyviolin



Category: Monster Hunter (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, POV Second Person, TF, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-24 18:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20019382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyviolin/pseuds/mistyviolin
Summary: A lone Dreadking Rathalos has been spotted in the Misty Peaks. Your task is to observe, most especially, the non-aggressive behaviors of one of the Old World’s most prominent wyverns. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary. Good luck, Deputy.





	Special Permit

Rathalos is a relatively common, but fearsome wyvern- should you escape the flames borne from its maw, its tail or poisonous talons will just as happily be your demise. Often it will attack while airborne, diving with rapid kicks and the occasional fireball. It is both a long-range and close-range monster. Stray too close, and Rathalos may either snap at you or simply try to bowl you over- a stunningly effective technique. Attack from afar, and again you will be met with fire.

Though Rathalos lacks the poisonous tail spines of its female counterpart, and will not attack with the “backflip” characteristic of Rathian, its hefty tail can send even the sturdiest of hunters tumbling. It can be severed, but even the stump will do damage to those that are unprepared.

There are several variants of Rathalos, and a corresponding Rathian- Azure Rathalos and Pink Rathian; Silver Rathalos and Gold Rathian. These are primarily cosmetic variants- their behavior differs slightly, but the color of their scales is most prominent.

Then there are the Deviants- Dreadking Rathalos and Dreadqueen Rathian. Highly unpredictable and dangerous, these beasts exist in a class all their own, separate from their comparatively mellower cousins. Special permits are needed to hunt these monsters, and little is known about their habits outside of aggression. That is your duty as Deputy of Research- to observe a Dreadking Rathalos as closely as possible to record its inter- and intra-species interactions, to better understand its role in the ecosystem without outside interference, and possible routes of non-violent relocation of species.  
A lone Dreadking Rathalos has been spotted in the Misty Peaks. Your task is to observe, most especially, the non-aggressive behaviors of one of the Old World’s most prominent wyverns. Do not engage unless absolutely necessary. Good luck, Deputy.  
—

You arrive without much fanfare at the Misty Peaks’ camp. The weather is mild as always, and a light breeze stirs the canopy above you. Although you know the layout of the area quite intimately, you still scour the blue supply box for a map- better to be safe than sorry.

It feels strange to only have one Palico beside you, rather than the two you typically bring. The small Felyne mews and absentmindedly cleans behind his ears, but his eyes are sharp.  
You would’ve preferred to not bring any Palicoes at all, but you were already testing your luck by bringing only one to begin with, and for taking on the hunt alone. But more help also means more chance of discovery, and you were determined to carry out this study properly the first time around.

From prior experience, you know that Rathalos typically nests in the caverns of Misty Peaks, and figure that the Dreadking variant would similarly find the area appealing. You mark an approximate location on your map, adjust your saddle bag, and set off on the path leading away from camp.  
There are two paths to the cave, one that is technically shorter, but more laborious, and one a bit longer but constitutes less scaling of mountain cliffs. You choose the latter of the two- it would be the easiest, should you need to escape the way you came. As you walk, your companion mills about, occasionally pausing to gather mushrooms or other useful herbs as you carry on ahead.

The entrance to the cave sits upon a small cliff that is fairly easy to climb for hunters and Felynes alike, but as you approach the cliff, you gesture for your assistant to stop.  
In the event that the Rathalos notices you and becomes aggressive, it will almost certainly roar, as is typical of the species- only then should he come to your aid.  
The Felyne looks nervous about the prospect of being separated from you, but he gives a small salute and says “Sure thing, boss,” before wandering off to gather some berries nestled at the base of the cliff.

You inhale, then exhale, steeling yourself. Leaning forward, you feel for a suitable handhold in the grooved cliffside. It doesn’t take long to find- you’ve climbed this enough for it to almost be second nature. From there, you find another, and another until your hands find grass rather than rock. With some effort, you pull yourself up and take a minute to catch your breath. You double-check the contents of your bag just to be sure, and the most vital item inside feels cool against your hand- a Farcaster, which will take you back to camp should you hurl it at your feet. It’s a last resort, but at times a necessary one.

Your current notepad, its leather binding worn and its pages slightly yellowed, is the second most important thing in your bag. It’s seen a lot of field studies and a lot of monster attacks, but you’re excited to have it filled at last, with no small portion dedicated to Dreadking Rathalos.  
There are some other items typical of any extended hunt- binoculars, some cooked steak, and various elixirs. You aren’t armed, save for a small throwing knife strapped to your thigh, and some stones in your bag. There’s also a few smoke bombs, to aid in any necessary escape.

The cave entrance sits at about a third of your height- large enough for a Felyne to comfortably walk through, but you have to crouch in order to fit.  
Bracing yourself on your palms, you shuffle forward as quietly as possible, and crawl through the opening in the mountainside.

The tunnel is dark and humid, the air heavy with moisture. Despite the layers of clothes and armor you’re saddled with, the heat is pleasant, like a hot spring. All the same, sweat beads on your forehead and drips down past your navel.  
You don’t recall the caves being so warm- if anything, the elevation typically meant they were cooler. With a shaky hand, you unbutton your collar and the first two buttons of your shirt.

The tunnel opens into the main cave area, with a ledge of rock favored by nesting wyverns. A haze of steam has settled around you- you can only see about a hand’s length away from your face. Squinting, you can’t make out Rathalos, but the steam is definitely unusual for this area, and you imagine it to be the Dreadking’s doing. There were no reports of Chameleos in the area, the elder dragon known for basking itself in fog, or any meteorological conditions that would lend itself to a microclimate.

If you can’t see or hear Dreadking, chances are, it hasn’t noticed you, or it isn’t here. Standing slowly, you brush your palms on your slacks and hold your bag close to you as you survey the cave.  
Straining your ears, there isn’t so much as the gentle snore of a sleeping wyvern, and no Velociprey clamoring. You frown and take a few silent steps forward. Just to reassure yourself, you feel again for the Farcaster in your bag.

Even the wind is still, and the heat has started to become stifling. Rathalos is not a particularly stealthy creature, given its size, so you figure it isn’t in the cave at the moment after all. Still, you feel the need to inspect the nesting outcrop, as there may be eggs, or evidence of the Dreadking’s presence.  
The heat is steadily more strenuous, but the ledge comes into view- squinting, there does seem to be a nest, but no eggs in sight.

You wipe your forehead, breathing heavy now, and rest on your knees to look closer at the nest. Gypceros is another wyvern that occasionally nests in the area, so you want to make sure it’s a Dreadking after all. The shed skin of a Gypceros is somewhat rubbery, and adults will cover their clutches with them until they hatch. Feeling around, you don’t encounter any texture of the sort, but you do prick yourself on something sharp in the nest- a thorn, perhaps?

Whatever it is, it hurts terribly, and it’s embedded in your palm. Wincing, you pull it out with your free hand and inspect the offending object.  
It’s evidently a scale- a deep crimson, and somewhat jagged. You excitedly fold it into your field notebook- a Dreadking scale! You’ll tape it in properly once you get home.

You try to stand up, but a bout of dizziness overtakes you, and nausea settles hard in your throat. The nest before you wavers, and you blink, trying to focus, but the terrible pain starts up again in your hand. In your neck and jaw, too- your head pounds, and your vision blurs with tears.

Your clothes feel impossibly tight- feverish, you try to take them off but notice your sleeves have already torn, and your arms have lengthened and scaled. You no longer have any hands to speak of, and watch as the fingers become impossibly long and thin- feeling your bones hollow, as scaled, membranous wings replace your upper extremities.

In a panic, you thrash your wings and attempt to call out for your Felyne companion, but all you can manage is a choked gurgle. The rest of your vestments tear with the rapid movement, tangled around a hind leg that now sports a foot with deadly, curved talons. Scales layer the rest of your body, growing from your skin. Trying to kick off the cloth caught on your claws, you trip over your field pouch as a long, sweeping appendage sprouts from your backbone, and tumble face-first onto the cave floor.

Rolling into the fetal position, you again flail and stumble around, crying out as pain grips your skull. You can feel your mandible breaking, shifting, and fusing back into place, your ears laying flatter and at an angle, and too many teeth filling your mouth.

The pain finally recedes to a dull ache in your jaw, and you shake your head from side to side.  
You’re quite tall now, you notice, and crane your neck to observe your new body. Like the first scale, you are mostly crimson red- darker than a typical Rathalos. The pattern of your wings, too- the colors are reversed. They are light ripples on a dark background, the hallmark of the Dreadking deviant.

You spot your saddlebag an arm’s length away, and frown- rather, you mean to frown, but a low rumble sounds instead.

The flapping of wings comes from the cave entrance you didn’t take. Panicked, you attempt to back out the way you came. With dismay, you realize you are simply too big.

The mystery flier lands, and the steam clears- and lo, another Dreadking approaches! He growls low, as he steps toward you, and you fear the worst. Unable to flee in such unfamiliar territory, you remain petrified with fear, as the other Dreadking pauses in front of you.

He scents you, particularly underneath your jaw and neck. Then, unexpectedly, he nuzzles you and rumbles contentedly.

You sigh, relieved. Again, your field pouch catches your eye.

...Maybe they make wyvern-sized stationery?


End file.
